The smoke, it never clears.
Dear, don't worry about a thing.
The bombs are going off when I walk to class
and the bodies are piling up when I clock out for lunch.
I watched the fire rage in the pulpit
but the pastor is still praying
even though he feels the heat.
And the president is hanging his head
when trust me, he knows the truth...
I can't help but cry
but I feel as if that is just to hide the laughter.
We want to fall in love but we love to fall in spite
so we dress in pretty clothes and check our texts and tweets.
Grab your packs and make sure you have enough ammo.
For love of god, cleaning your ******* weapon
because we are all soldiers in some kind of war.